


Gamers™

by GlameowGal360, notallfoxes



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Humor, M/M, Multi, Podcast, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26675569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlameowGal360/pseuds/GlameowGal360, https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallfoxes/pseuds/notallfoxes
Summary: So, Claude, Dimitri, Hilda, and Marianne are college roommates. Claude and Hilda also happen to have a gaming channel. Chaos ensues.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier/Mercedes von Martritz, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc, Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring/Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Ignatz Victor, Cyril/Lysithea von Ordelia, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril/Claude von Riegan, Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Edelgard von Hresvelg/Petra Macneary, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, Hapi/Constance von Nuvelle, Raphael Kirsten/Bernadetta von Varley/Leonie Pinelli
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	1. Not So Domestic Bliss

As soon as he shoved the door open, Dimitri had to smile at the sight of his boyfriend and roommates. Marianne was busy rubbing her eternally-exhausted girlfriend Hilda’s shoulders while Celebrity Big Brother played in the background. 

“It’s a sign of the times,” Claude drawled, legs draped over the arm of his one seater sofa. He was wearing running shorts that showed off his thighs, and the angle he was laying at provided Dimitri with an excellent view. “We are doomed as a species, and _you_ are supporting it.”

“Yup,” Hilda muttered. “Humanity is going to hell in a handbasket. Your turn, Mari!” The pinkette was surprisingly happy with switching positions with Marianne, and started returning the favor: she was likely the only person Hilda was willing to put in extra effort for. 

At the sound of the door locking, Marianne turned and smiled at the sight of Dimitri toeing his boots off. “Welcome home, Dimi.” The utterance of that name sent Claude running to the doorway to wrap the blonde in an air-tight hug. 

“Missed you!” he cooed. 

“Missed you too,” Dimitri chuckled, pressing a peck to the brunette’s temple.

“You’re right on time,” Hilda switched the tv off at a particularly face-palm worthy moment. “The pizza will be here any minute.” She gave a shit-eating grin. “Hope you like Hawaiian.” 

Claude made an about-to-vomit face. “Ech, why do you insist on eating the devil’s food in this apartment?” he grimaced.

Hilda laughed. “This apartment is gay as Elton John sliding down a rainbow while watching drag queens: according to Bernie’s dad, we’re all heading to hell anyway.” 

Marianne sighed at the mention of _that_ man. “I’m glad she doesn’t live with him anymore.” Hilda’s touch eased the tension out of her shoulders. “How was everyone’s day?” 

Dimitri wobbled his hand in a so-so motion. “A customer was dissatisfied with the amount of cream on their frappuccino and decided to take it up with me. I didn’t make the thing, I just work the register,” he rolled his eyes tiredly.

Hilda eyed him. “Please tell me you spat in their replacement drink.” 

“Hilda!” Dimitri looked affronted, “Two wrongs do not make a right!”

“Hey,” Claude wrapped an arm around Dimitri, “everyone should know that when it comes to all things edible, pissing off employees is a one-way ticket to Saliva Ville.” Marianne stifled a quiet giggle fit.

Dimitri shook his head. “Every day, I thank God that neither of you has ever worked in fast food.” 

“Speaking of, are you a restaurant? ‘Cause I’d take you out,” Claude tried with an eyebrow wiggle.

“Claude, I love you, but please,” Dimitri plopped onto the sofa, “no bad puns past 9:00 p.m.” 

“Our day was great,” Hilda worked one last knot out of Marianne’s back, sat back down, and pulled the girl into her lap. “Dorothea came by with a few… presents.” 

“Do I _want_ to know?” Dimitri braced himself for the worst—or the perverted in the case of Dorothea.

Marianne pointed to a gift-wrapped box beside the tv. “She got some things for you two as well. Everything’s _very_ high quality.” 

With all the care of a bomb disposal expert, Dimitri peeked inside the package and immediately turned beet red. “Of course,” his voice cracked, “Why _wouldn’t_ she know our measurements for lingerie?”

The bluenette giggled again. “Most of ours were actually pretty innocent: just lace and floral print.” 

“And the ones that weren’t?” Claude pressed, grinning cheekily. 

“Are,” Marianne blushed a bit, “for special occasions.” 

Dimitri lolled his head back and groaned. “Why does she insist on involving herself in our sex life?” he asked no one in particular.

“Becaaaause,” Hilda drawled. “Have you two seen yourselves? A couple like you is waaay too much to ignore.” 

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“You should spend more time appreciating what you see in the mirror, Dimi. The rest of the world definitely does.” 

The blushing blonde tried to stutter a response, but a curt knock mercifully cut him off. “Oh! That’d be dinner!” Marianne scurried to meet the delivery man.

“You should tip him for having to carry that abomination all this way,” Claude said derisively.

“I will!” 

“Wait,” Hilda slumped onto the sofa at her realization. “Do we have a plan for tomorrow’s episode? I’m pretty sure there isn’t a plan.” 

Claude winked playfully. “Those always lead to the best moments. ‘Sides, you know Cyril loves working with our random bits.”

“I can assure you he does not,” Dimitri deadpanned.

“Okay, so,” Marianne stumbled into the living room with a stack of pizza boxes obscuring her view. “Someone may have paid for five Hawaiians on our behalf.” 

“Say _what_?” Claude paled, and Dimitri had to bark a laugh at that. “Who? And for the love of God, why?!”

“Oh,” Hilda smirked and went to help Marianne with their abundance of food. “this _has_ to be divine punishment for whatever you plan on pulling tomorrow.” 

“The sender wanted to remain anonymous. I hope you’re hungry.” 

Claude snarled as soon as he connected the dots. “ _Gau-TIER._ ” The ongoing rivalry between former chess captains Claude and Sylvain was certainly fun for the spectators. But for Claude, it was just another slight that would not go unanswered.

“Oh yeah, he’s the manager at Domino’s,” Dimitri realized. “Are you ever going to tell me what you did to get on his revenge list?”

Hilda cackled. “You don’t know? It’s quite the story.” When Dimitri gave her an expectant look, she simply shrugged. “Sorry. I’ve been sworn to secrecy.” 

“I will never understand you or your friends, Claude.”

“You say that like they aren’t also _your_ friends.” 

___

“Hey, Mitya,” Claude shook his boyfriend awake, “Do you hear that?”

Dimitri rolled over. “Hear what?” He rubbed his eyes, and picked up on a faint voice. “They’re probably still up. It’s nothing to worry about.” 

“No, no, listen _closely_.”

The distinct sounds of sexual intimacy could be heard coming from the room beside theirs. 

“O-Oh,” Dimitri turned bright red. “well, it’s none of our business. Given how thin the walls are… they’ve probably heard the same from us.” 

Claude grinned wickedly. “Dimitri, you thinking what I’m thinking?” 

“We should get ear muffs?” 

Claude laughed and began tracing Dimitri’s chest. “Close, but no. I believe that we should rise to the challenge.” He leaned in close, his minty breath fanning across Dimitri’s face. “Y’know, give _them_ something to overhear.”

Next door, Marianne was trying to keep her voice down, but with Hilda fingering her she wasn’t succeeding. “I don’t—haaah—want to bother them, Hildie.” 

Hilda leaned in to whisper. “Do you want to stop?” She asked, nipping her ear. 

“N-Not really.” 

Clear as day, they heard Claude moaning followed by the sound of a bed creaking. 

“… I guess they had the same idea.” Hilda bit her lip: they sounded _good_. “Which means,” she set her mouth on Marianne’s neck, “I doubt you have to try to be quiet anymore.” 

Marianne threw her head back, a loud moan escaping her. “ _Hildaaaaaa_ …” 

Back in the other room, Claude taunted his lover. “C-C’mon, Mitya. That all ya- ah! Wait- _fuck_!”

“You asked for this, Claude,” Dimitri licked his ear.

Now they could hear Hilda too, though she was doing a notably better job of stifling her voice. 

Claude shivered at the thought of her. “Oh God the _face_ she must be making…” 

A particularly hard thrust was Dimitri’s reply to that. “The only person you should be thinking about,” he pulled Claude’s hair, “is me.”

“F-Fuck... Tell me this-” Marianne cried out again and Hilda called her name, “-isn’t getting to y-you.”

Dimitri didn’t answer, instead opting to shut Claude up with a demanding kiss. 

This back and forth continued for the rest of the night. 

___

Early the next morning, Claude and Hilda were able to grin and act like nothing happened while Dimitri and Marianne stuttered awkward good mornings. The gaming duo were setting up to record and Hilda broke the silence.

“So,” Hilda turned to Dimitri, “how was your night? Sleep well?” 

“Yes, yes I did,” Dimitri vainly attempted to feign ignorance. “What, uh, how about you?”

Marianne cleared her throat. “We slept well enough.” 

Claude hid a smirk. “I’m sure. But, was anyone else woken up by… voices in the middle of the night?” 

“V-Voices?” Marianne flushed. “Um, no? I didn’t hear anything. Nothing at all.” 

Hilda tried her damnedest not to laugh, but it was getting harder to keep up the act. “Speaking of being woken up, were you guys exercising last night? I could swear I heard creaking.” 

Dimitri darted into the pantry, rifling through food carelessly. “Hey! Are we out of… er, Clif Bars?” he asked, desperate to change topics. “Why did no one add them to the list?”

Abandoning subtlety, Claude fell to the floor in complete hysteria and Hilda did the same shortly afterward.

“Ohmygod,” There were tears in the brunette’s eyes, “Clif Bars- pfffft!”

“I-I’m being serious! You need to keep up with groceries!”

“Okay— _pffffffft_ —Okay,” Hilda wheezed, “let’s all just admit it.” 

“Not with _me_ in the room!” Dimitri dashed into the bathroom and locked the door.

Marianne giggled though she was still very red in the face. “This isn’t even the first time that’s happened…” 

“It’s the first time we’re addressing it though,” Claude noted. “and you know Mitya—boy’s sensitive.” 

“Wait, Dimi, get back here! We need to- hahahaha,” Hilda couldn’t even keep a straight face at this point. “We need to talk about this!” 

With great reluctance, Dimitri skulked back into the living room, avoiding eye contact with everyone. “What?” he muttered meekly.

“Ahem,” Claude forced the grin from his face. “so… We heard you guys fucking last night. And you heard us.” 

Hilda wiped her eyes, tears of mirth flowing down her cheeks. “Should we, like, put up a schedule for when sex is going to happen?” 

“Awkward as that would be…” Marianne shifted from foot to foot. “it _would_ stop things like last night from happening.” 

“True, true, or…” Claude looked to Hilda, excitement in his eyes, “there’s another option.” 

Eyes blown wide, Dimitri blushed and looked between them. “Absolutely not!” he declared, not at all liking where things were headed.

“Why,” Hilda batted her lashes, “whatever do you think we’re suggesting?” 

Initially, Dimitri started to formulate a response, but he eventually chose to flee to the bathroom again. Hilda cut him off.

“Nope. No hiding. We all need to be brutally honest here.” 

“I feel that ‘need’ is a strong word.” He tried to sidestep her, and she blocked him again. 

“All of this,” she gestured wildly, “has gone unsaid for far too long. Mari and I were talking this morning and,” Hilda looked to Marianne, who shyly nodded, “we agree that you both sounded really, really, extremely hot.” 

“I- T-Thank you?” Dimitri was burning up, much to everyone’s amusement. 

“I mean,” Claude began, “we only started going at it because of how good you two sounded. Am I _wrong_ , Dimitri?” The blonde’s face said it all. 

“So, getting right to the point,” Hilda smiled widely, “can we fuck in the same room?” 

Claude pulled Dimitri close. “You know my answer, but what about you, Mitya? If you don’t wanna do it, just say the word. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

Marianne nodded supportively. “We’ll be happy to drop this if it makes you uncomfortable,” she said, gentle assurance in her tone. 

“... _If_ we tried this,” Dimitri wrung his hands. “would, um, would we be able to stop at any time?”

Hilda’s expression turned legitimately serious. “Of course. We can all revoke consent at any time.” 

“O-Okay. We can… _try_ it.” 

___

—Gamers: Mario Kart and Don’t Fucking @ Hilda—

Claude: Welcome back to PartyCity! We thought-

Hilda: We don’t sell decorations.

Claude: ...Uh-

Hilda: (radio hostess voice) Welcome back to our podcast! Today we’ll be discussing the asexual-hypersexual spectrum and what to do if you find yourself in a relationship where you aren’t doing the do. 

Claude: Oh shit, we are?! That’s my favorite!

Hilda: Really?  
  


Claude: No. (pause and laughter) We’re playing Mario Kart!

Hilda: What- (laughing) what even was that intro? 

Claude: Don’t question, just accept. (rushing) I call Peach!

Hilda: Pfft. You can have her—she’s a bottom bitch. 

Claude: _Woah_. You’d talk to the princess like that?

Hilda: Why not? It’s the same way I talk to your mother. 

Claude: …

Claude: you know my mother’s been dead for forty years why the fuck would you- (chipper) AW DUDE YOU’RE PICKING PINK YOSHI?! Everybody knows pink Yoshi is the best!

Hilda: Pink Yoshi is literally me. We are the same entity. How could I not choose my own soul? 

Claude: Kay, well, you know what?

Hilda: Enlighten me.

Claude: (choosing kart) Koopa Clown kart, biiiiiitch!

Hilda: … Well okay then. Back to Claude eventually rage-quitting because he sucks dick at Mario Kart. 

Claude: I do love sucking dick.

Dimitri: (chokes on his water) 

(laughter)

Hilda: Mkay, let me just get this set up (sets the cc to 200 and the ai to hard). 

Claude: Hell yeah, baby, let’s _do it_! (quickly selects Rainbow Road without asking)

Hilda: Are you ready for this, babe? 

Claude: (close to the mic) My body is ready.

Hilda: Wait, why in shit are we on Rainbow- you know what? It’s fitting. 

Claude: (cackling) I don’t know what you could _possibly_ be talking about!

Hilda: (she gets a head start while he’s busy giggling) Woooooooow you’re terrible. 

Claude: You know what else is terrible! Dropping a bomb here folks: Legend of Korra!

Hilda: WE DON’T FUCKING TALK ABOUT THAT. 

Claude: About what? The Legend of Korra? (his her with a shell and passes)

Hilda: Let’s rewind (swerves around cars in an attempt to catch up). You know what else is terrible? 

Claude: Do tell.

Hilda: Dimitri’s gag reflex. 

Dimitri: WHY.

Hilda: Because I’ve seen you brush your teeth, and dear Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. 

Claude: Hey, we are working on it, okay? Gosh!

Claude: Anywho! (second lap) Legend of Korra: great show, or _greatest_ show?

Hilda: (throws a banana into his path) Why do you care? 

Claude: Bernie’s new to the series and I wanna—son of a bitch—point her in the right direction.

Hilda: (pauses the game) Wait, is she _watching_ that shit show- 

Claude: No! Nonononono, God no. I just want to explain that she should avoid it like the plague.

Hilda: Okay… Look, the whole thing is just a clusterfuck. Mkay? Can we keep playing the actually enjoyable game now? 

Claude: I’m waiting on you, sister.

Hilda: (unpauses and immediately rams into his kart) So, in other news, what’s happening in the Wonderful Life of Claude and That Tall Glass of Water sent to quench the thirst of millions? 

Claude: You are referring to the light of my life?

Hilda: Yeah. Guys (looking directly into the camera), I’ve seen the comments whenever Dimitri’s on screen. 

Claude: Good stuff all around! We’ve been doing couple-y activities—recently watched Crazy Rich Asians, uh, we went to the beach last week, and I am with child. 

Hilda: (Bowser hits her with a blue shell) OH. Okay, I see how it is. I see how it _fucking_ is you freak of nature. 

Claude: Ahem. I am with child. 

Hilda: What, you think since Mario isn’t here you can pretend you don’t get fucked up the ass on the regular? 

Claude: Hilda.

Hilda: I don’t fucking think so. Not in MY country. 

Claude: Um, Hildie?

Hilda: _What?_

Claude: I’m pregnant.

Hilda: You should be talking to Mari if you’re looking for a midwife (turns back to the game). Bring your spiky rectum here boy. 

Claude: …(puts controller down; sits bridal style in Dimitri’s lap) We’re in the midst of college with a child on the way. Oh Dimitri, my love, what are we to do?

Dimitri: (looks at Marianne as she walks in and mouths “help”) 

Marianne: (looks at Claude and then at Hilda) What’s happening?

Hilda: Claude’s milking the pregnancy joke for all it’s worth- I WILL DECAPITATE ALL OF YOUR CHILDREN. I WILL HANG THEIR BLEEDING SHELLS ON YOUR CASTLE WALLS. 

Claude: I’m glad my unplanned pregnancy is a joke to you, but it is deadly serious for us! (over dramatic crying)

Marianne: (going over and patting Claude’s back) Oh Claude, I didn’t know that was a pregnancy belly. 

Claude: I know. Curse my love of Ben and Jerry’s, but their bouquet of flavors is irresistible.

Hilda: (laughing and turning to them) This would be funnier if he actually had a gut. Unfortunately, (Bowser passes her again) BITCHFACE. Anyway, your metabolism is stupid high. 

Claude: Y’know if you’re gonna poke holes in all my jokes, why even have a show?

Dimitri: Why do you have a gaming channel that, at the moment, you aren’t gaming on? 

Claude: One, the joke must come first. Two, I prefer to be at least six feet away when Hilda gets like this.

Hilda: I’m not that bad (she closes in on Bowser near the finish line of the third lap). C’mere. Just a little bit closer and I can _tear the flesh from your hide_. 

Marianne: ...Hilda, that is pretty morbid.

Hilda: Claude’s sense of humor is morbid. Can you imagine him actually being a college mom (shivers)? 

Claude: I dunno, can you imagine (Hilda is hit with a shell from behind and six people pass her) GETTING IN SEVENTH PLACE HAHAHA!

Hilda: (pauses the game and sets the controller down) This doesn’t bother me. 

Claude: Mmmm yes it does.

Hilda: (wipes her sweaty palms on her pants and breathes deeply) Nope. It doesn’t. Because Bitchface Turtle McGee placed last. 

Dimitri: Wasn’t he in first?

Hilda: (looking at the results) SINCE WHE- whatever. Get over here so we can play another round. 

Dimitri: Hey, at least you beat Baby Luigi. 

Hilda: Do _you_ want to play, Dimitri? 

Dimitri: Oh no, I’d never intrude upon this high caliber show.

Claude: We’ll see ya next time guys! Maybe we won’t throw tantrums!

Hilda: … Uggggggh. 

___


	2. What Even

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cyril is tired and Felix is a sub.

—CyrilStreams Episode: I Stopped Caring A Very Long Time Ago—

Cyril: Welcome the fuck back. I’m still an editor, so I have that going for me. Say hi or don’t—the episode title says it all. 

Claude: Hello! We have returned for another stream- by the way, Cyril, do you need antidepressants? Because you are sadder than Lizzie Maguire’s acting career.

Cyril: I just crashed from a caffeine high. 

Lysithea: (in the background) I told you that would happen. 

Cyril: You go on sugar binges everyday. You have no room to criticize me.

Lysithea: That is… a very fair point. 

Claude: I see you’re slowly but surely beginning to phase into the “old married couple” stage of your relationship.

Cyril: That stage has been our entire relationship. 

Lysithea: Amen to that. 

Cyril: Okay, how do I- (sighs) Do you guys realize how weird the audio gets when you go that far off camera? 

Claude: I’ll bring it up with Hilda during our next staff meeting.

Cyril: Don’t bullshit me. 

[Ignatz joins the stream.]

Ignatz: Oh gosh, I hope I’m not interrupting!

Cyril: Everyone say hi to Ignatz—one of the most tolerable people I’ve ever had on this stream. 

Claude: HELLO, IGGY! 

Cyril: He has foolishly volunteered to animate for us despite my repeated warnings. 

Ignatz: Don’t be silly! I’m _honored_ to have this opportunity. Not to mention that I love speaking with all of you! 

Claude: DAWWWW. You’re such a sweetheart, Iggy. 

Ignatz: (weak voice) C-Claude. Please _cease_.

Cyril: I mean, he’s not wrong, but moving on… 

Claude: To _what_ , pray tell?

Cyril: Asks and requests and the general pain of existing- I’m gonna chug an entire bottle of Advil. 

Lysithea: That would kill you.

Cyril: (sighs heavily) 

Lysithea: (pats his back) At least you’ve got me to numb the pain. And _not_ Advil.

Cyril: Yeah, love you, too- fuck me. 

Lysithea: Neither of us would enjoy that. 

Cyril: Good point. 

Ignatz: You two have such a healthy relationship! I’m glad both of you found happiness—even if your tone says otherwise.

Claude: Speaking of finding happiness… Ignatz~. 

Ignatz: (sighs) I’m not going to like this… 

Claude: You live with four other men now… 

Ignatz: Yes… I do.

Claude: You’re also a _flaming_ bisexual.

Ignatz: (wary) Where are you going with this?

Cyril: He’s asking if you’ve been fucked. 

Ignatz: (sputters, voice cracks) What the- bu- thi- _NO_!

Claude: Cyril! I was simply wondering if there have been any sparks of romance—that’s all. 

Cyril: I’m _positive_ , you horny, _horny_ man. 

Ignatz: No, no there hasn’t been. They are my _friends_ , not to mention WAY out of my league. So, no.

Claude: Give me second, I need to make a quick phone call. 

Lysithea: What is this stream?

Claude: Hello, Yuri? I’m gonna put you on speaker. 

Ignatz: Wha- We’re in the _same apartment_!

Claude: True, true. Yuri, can you head into Ignatz’s room? 

Ignatz: (small voice) Oh no… (a door opens in the background)

Yuri: (mic shifts) What’s going on?

Claude: Iggy said, and I quote, that you and the other guys are “WAY out of his league”. 

Ignatz: _CLAUDE NO_!

Claude: I just figured you could use a second opinion. 

Yuri: Why, Ignatz, I can’t imagine what led to you thinking that. You are _unfathomably adorable_.

Ignatz: (squeaking) S-Stop, please, I beg you… 

Yuri: How can I stop when you’re making such a _precious expression_? 

Ignatz: It’s- _no_! H-Help!

Cyril: Who do you think is going to help you? 

Ignatz: I don’t knoooooooooow!

Yuri: That blush suits you indescribably well. 

Ignatz: (voice shaking) S-Screw you, C-Claude, _screw y-you_!

Claude: (trying not to laugh) _Snk- pfffft_. 

Cyril: I warned you—you have no one to blame but yourself. 

Ignatz: I just wanted to talk with frieeeeeends!

Yuri: Why be friends when you can be (voice deepens) _more than friends?_

Ignatz: I’m out, (sound of a chair being pushed away) I’M OUT! 

Claude: BAHAHAHAHAHA! 

Cyril: We just lost the only good person here. Nice job, boss. 

Yuri: That was fun. Huh. Why haven’t we done this before? 

Cyril: The stream is over. 

___

Monday afternoon—Linhardt rifled through the fridge while his housemates prepared lunch. “Don’t mind me. I just need a few things.” He collected a gallon of milk, sausage links, and the entire carton of eggs before leaving.

Yuri stared after him. “Well then.”

His boyfriend, Ashe, chewed his lip. “Uh, should we be concerned about that?” 

“Almost forgot…” Linhardt returned, grabbing a single granola bar and, after a second of deliberation, a roll of paper towels. 

“Lin? What’s going on?” Ashe asked. 

“Don’t worry about it. Carry on. The fajitas smell great!” With that, he closed his bedroom door behind him. 

Yuri blinked. “I am very much worried.” 

The two attempted to resume, but were constantly interrupted by indefinable noises coming from Linhardt’s room. At one point, there was a crash followed by smoke seeping through his door frame.

Ashe marched down the hall like a frustrated parent prepared to scold his child. As soon as he yanked open Linhardt’s door, smoke flew in his face. 

“Ashe, what are you doing?” a tired voice asked from within.

“WHA- _ack_ ! WHAT ARE _YOU_ DOING?!”

Linhardt had already cracked open a window, but it wasn’t enough to clear the space of fumes. On his desk was a set of vials and test tubes along with some active Bunsen burners. 

Caspar, lounging on their bed and chowing down on sausage links, appeared far too nonchalant. “It’s nothing to worry about… probably.” The bluenette had grown accustomed to Linhardt’s experiments years ago. 

“Probably isn’t- are those _raw eggs_?!” Ashe jabbed a finger at the glass in Caspar’s hand.

“Yup.” He then proceeded to chug said raw eggs. “Once you get used to the taste, it’s actually kinda nice.”

“Ashe?” Yuri called, “I’m guessing it’s an ungodly mess in there.” He peered over Ashe’s shoulder. “You do not disappoint.”

Linhardt had taken to using one of his research papers to fan remaining exhaust away. Apparently, he had deemed the state of things tolerable, because he went right back to work. “Hmm. If I add two more ounces of this…” 

“Two ounces of what?” Yuri arced an eyebrow. “Nitroglycerin? Gasoline? Or maybe gunpowder?” 

“Hmm,” the scientist paused and briefly considered Yuri’s words, “perhaps, during a later trial.” 

“Goody.”

Groaning, Ashe rubbed his temples. “Couldn’t you have conducted this somewhere much safer? Like at the university’s labs?”

“They’re so, so, dreadfully far.” 

Caspar rolled his eyes and munched on another sausage. “It’s less than a mile.” 

“So, so, _so_ far.”

“How did you ever convince this eternally exhausted man to date you?” All Yuri knew about their partnership was that they’d been together since high school. And, from what he’d seen so far, it was a miracle that they graduated let alone formed a successful relationship.

“With my dick.”

Ashe turned an adorable pink. “C-Caspar!” 

“Eh,” Caspar shrugged, “we both like spending time together, so for dates we just enjoy each other’s company.”

“Also,” Linhardt added, “with his dick.”

Before Ashe could make another affronted exclamation, their remaining roommate, Ignatz, poked his head into the room. He removed his hand-me-down 90’s headphones and took everything in, his wide eyes made bigger by his circular glasses.

“What’s going on? Something about dicks?”

___

After several minutes of working up the nerve, Marianne decided to simply blurt out her thoughts. “You guys can back out at any time.” It was obvious that Dimitri was nervous, and she had no intention of pressuring anyone. 

“Um, what brought this on?” Dimitri already had his jeans in a deathgrip.

“I just want you to know that you don’t have to do this,” she continued, reaching over to squeeze his hand, “I’m happy to drop this if it makes you uncomfortable. So are Claude and Hildie.” 

Dimitri ran his thumb over her knuckles. “The same applies to you.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “After all, I was under the impression that you didn’t like boys.”

Marianne giggled. “Honestly, so was I until, well…” a pink blush spreads across her face and she cleared her throat, “college has been a very enlightening experience.”

“Haha! Well, as long as you’re willing to try it, then we should all be alright.” He took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I will admit, there is a… _bit_ of pressure. Knowing that I’m going to be someone’s first, that is.”

She gave him a warm smile, though her blush had intensified. “T-Try not to worry too much. We’re only watching this time- uh, not that there has to _be_ a _next time_ if this doesn’t work out!” 

“I, um, find myself hoping there will be a next time,” Dimitri admitted, pink coloring his face as well.

They settled into a comfortable quiet on the living room sofa. Meanwhile, Claude and Hilda were watching them intently from the dining table. 

Hilda bit her lip. “Is it weird that I-” She shook her head. “No, never mind.” 

“Is it weird that you want to see them get together?” Claude grinned. “Nah. I feel the same.”

“Well, is it weird that I’ve been thinking that for a _long_ time?” Hilda chuckled. “I’ll always love Mari, but they’re _sooo_ cute. It kinda makes me wonder how the Mercie Quad does things.” 

“Pfft, the ‘Mercie Quad’. Is that their official title?”

“It’s easier than saying the Sylvain-Felix-Annette-Mercedes quad.” 

“True, true.” Claude stroked his chin. “Honestly, Mercedes has them wrapped around her finger. They probably came together out of their shared love for her.”

___

“Why— _ngh_ —were you s-so adamant about th-this?”

Mercedes breathed into Felix’s ear. “As I recall, _you’re_ the one who expressed interest.”

“ _Rail him_ , Mercie!” Sylvain made a show of cheering the two on. He turned to Annette, seated beside him. “ _Babe_.”

Annette huffed a laugh. “In a minute. I want to see Fe fall apart,” a crafty smirk crossed her face, “so I can bring it up tomorrow.” 

“Ooh, I _love_ your devious little mind!”

“Both of yo— _oh!_ —Sh-Shut up!” Felix buried his burning face in the sheets as he, to his shame, began to meet Mercedes’ thrusts.

The blonde leaned down to nip his ear. “You’re being such a _good boy_ .” One of her hands gripped his hip while the other teased through his hair. “I wish you’d let me do this sooner. You look so good bent over. And you take it _so well_.” 

“Damn right he does!” Sylvain blurted out, mesmerized by the way his girlfriend had reduced their stubborn partner into a keening mess. “Smack that skinny ass!”

“ _Fuck you_ -”

Mercedes did just that, the sharp sound startling Annette. “Do you like that, darling?” Felix could only nod shakily. She chuckled and spanked him again. “See what you’ve been missing out on?”

Annette rubbed her thighs against each other and limply tapped Sylvain’s arm. “You can- now if you want to.” She barely registered him kneeling and diving between her legs, too invested in Felix’s ass. Annette _did_ notice when he picked her up and dropped her beside their partners on the bed. “H-Hey, Fe,” she _had_ to tease him before Sylvain took away her ability to speak, “I never knew you’d be such a good bottom- _oh sweet God_.” 

“N-Never again-” The bluenette was cut off by another swift slap to his rear. “ _Haaaah_ , shit! Wh-Why does it feel…?”

“Guess you’re secretly a sub, too- _Jesus Christ is my lord and savior_.” 

Sylvain chuckled and bit the inside of Annette’s thigh. “I’m here too, thanks.” He took two handfuls of her generous rear and squeezed while pulling her closer.

“I’m _very_ aware.” Annette gripped his red locks. “So good, _shit_ , your mouth is _so good_ .” It wasn’t long before his tongue was the only thing she could think about. “ _Haah_ , wait- babe,” she pulled his head up, and blushed when he greedily licked her slick off his face, “l-lie down so I can do you, too.” 

“Can _fucking_ do.” Sylvain shucked off his pants and got into position for Annette. He grinned up at her as he lazily stroked himself. “Are you coming? Or is the view too dis— _fuuuuuck_ …”

When Felix felt coherent enough to open his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of Sylvain’s cock in Annette’s mouth. He stifled a pleading moan at a particularly hard thrust from Mercedes. “This is just-” his dick ached, and fuck everything he just wanted Mercedes to _touch_ him. “Mercie, _please_.” 

“Please, _what_ , Fe?” She was ramming into Felix now; how she maintained her composure was beyond him.

“T-Touch me…” Felix knew he would never live this down, but there was nothing else could he do but beg for relief.

“I’ll do you one better!” Right when he was about to utter a thank you, she pulled out, flipped him over, and began slowly easing a condom onto his length. A domineering darkness filled her eyes. “ _Beg_ ,” was her simple request. 

“Wha- Mercie that’s not-” Every bit of stubborn pride he had left promptly died, “I _need_ you! Damnit, I’ll die if you make me wait any longer—I _need_ to come, _please_...”

“Give— _oh fuck, Annie_ —give it to him, Merc— _ahhhh_!” Sylvain barely finished his sentence before he climaxed in Annette’s waiting mouth. He grasped her hair through the aftershocks, and, afterward, brushed a thumb across her cheek. “Amazing as always, Annette.”

She swallowed his spend and crawled over his chest with a happily dazed smile. “Wanna pick up where you left off?” 

He didn’t hesitate to tug her over his face and savor her wetness. “Love you, Annie,” Sylvain pressed a finger into her and lapped at her clit. 

“L-Love you, Syl.” 

Sylvain’s tongue was both sly and noisy as he finished her off. “Mhm, that’s it, lemme taste you.” 

Annette’s head lolled back and she climaxed before slumping beside him. She nuzzled into his side and glanced toward the others only to find Felix desperately trying not to _scream_. 

“Puh-Please, Mercie! I can’t— _oh fuck_ —just lemme, _please_!”

“Since you’re— _ahhhh!_ —asking so nicely.” Mercedes sped up and the bed creaked beneath them. “Close, lovely?” 

“ _God_ , yessss!” Drool trailed down Felix’s chin as he surrendered to Mercedes’ rough fucking.

“Then _come for me_ .” Her demand was punctuated by her practically bouncing on his dick. When he came, he came _hard_. She almost instantly followed him off the edge.

Sylvain and Annette quickly surrounded them in a loving cuddle. The redhead pecked his boyfriend’s flushed cheek. “You should get topped more often.” 

“Shut,” Felix mumbled, begrudgingly snuggling into Sylvain’s chest.

Annette reached over and booped his nose. “You looked great. It’s hot when you let yourself go like that.” She yawned and gave him a tired yet adoring gaze. “I love you, Fe.” 

“I love _all of you_ !” Mercedes declared, kissing each of her partners. “We simply _must_ do this again, and soon!”

Felix merely grumbled. Notably, though, he didn’t disagree.

___

—Gamers: [Insert name of Shitty Dating Sim]—

Claude: Welcome to a special, _steamy_ episode!

Hilda: (scrolling through avatars) Are there gay dating options? 

Claude: What do you think this is, Animal Crossing? This is Persona-levels of avoiding the gayness.

Hilda: If I can’t play a lesbian top who loves wrecking pussy, why are we here? 

Claude: (laughing) This was _your_ idea!

Hilda: I said let’s try a dating sim! I didn’t say, “Hey Crackhead, why don’t you go to a discount Walmart and steal some trash from the bargain bin?” 

Claude: I am a pothead, thank you very much. Maybe you’ll get to be a lady top that loves destroying ass?

Hilda: … I _do_ like ass. 

Claude: Mhmmm.

Hilda: Specifically (looks at Claude’s ass). 

Claude: (scandalized gasp; British accent) Play the game, naughty miss!

Dimitri: I would just like to acknowledge that, at this stage in our (points at Hilda) friendship, I am completely okay with that. And I don’t even understand why. 

Hilda: (sets up a high five) Claude-Ass Appreciation Club!

Dimitri: (begrudgingly high-fives her) Sure. Why not. 

Hilda: Can I talk about why I love your boyfriend’s ass on camera in front of hundreds of thousands of viewers who will definitely misinterpret this in some way, shape, or form? 

Dimitri: I- Just- Sure. _Why not_.

Claude: Please share! I do love hearing you wax poetic! 

Hilda: The first time I ever saw you in skinny jeans. Hot. Dayum. How do you even find pants in your size? 

Claude: It’s a, uh, shopping talent, I guess?

Hilda: And I just love the way Dimitri blushes whenever you sit in his lap cuz we can _alllll_ tell he’s thinking about it. 

Dimitri: I-I am not!

Claude: (pouts at him) You’re not? Do you not like my ass, Mitya? Is it too big to handle? 

Dimitri: (about to combust) NO- That- Oh why. (buries face in hands)

Hilda: And as long as we’re talking about big things… (looks at Dimitri). 

Dimitri: Absolutely not.

Hilda: I was going to talk about how big your feet are. Cuz I have really little feet and finding shoes is a pain, so I wondered if it was that way on the opposite end of the spectrum. 

Dimitri: Well… that’s good. And not really? You just have to know where to look.

Claude: But speaking of big things (stares intently at Dimitri)... 

Dimitri: I’m out. (starts to leave)

Claude: I was going to talk about your _hands_! 

Dimitri: Still leaving!

Marianne: (enters the room to leave food for the cat) What happened?

Hilda: We were talking about Claude’s ass. And now I’d like to discuss _your_ ass. 

Marianne: (100% red) O-Oh! (runs off)

Hilda: (yelling) I love grabbing it whenever you walk by!

(door slams in background)

Claude: (turning to Hilda) Hey, we haven’t talked about _you_ yet. 

Hilda: I guess we haven’t (bats her lashes at him). So talk all you want. 

Claude: Well, your hair is lovely and so soft. And I could get lost in those rosy eyes. Not to mention that warm smile- 

Hilda: You say all of this while staring at my tits. 

Claude: Doesn’t make it any less true!

Hilda: You’re still staring. Right at my tits. 

Claude: Yeeeeep.

Hilda: Wait... (turns to the game and bursts out laughing) We haven’t even pressed _start_ yet! 

Claude: Gushing is more fun than any game.

Hilda: Cyril, please cut like 90% of our bullshit out. 

Cyril: (on screen text) Nope. Too much work.

Claude: Cut 50% and we’ll stay on topic next time. 

Cyril: (on screen) Empty promises.

Hilda: No we fucking won’t. 

Cyril: (on screen) T_T

Claude: Okay character select. Boy or… Boy? Or, or! Boi. Or Boieeeee. 

Hilda: Female badass. (selects a goth-y _boy_ ) There we go.

Claude: That is a man. Did you not hear what your options were?

Hilda: SHIET! 

(They get to a portion of the game where the main character clearly has no clue how a healthy relationship should function.)

Hilda: (close to falling asleep; jolts awake) Wha? Huh? Did he, like, figure out that girls are just people or…? 

Claude: (tight smile) Nooope. Now he’s trying to guilt girls into sex.

Hilda: (slumps onto the floor) Oh goody (attempts to merge with the carpet). Why are we still playing this? 

Claude: To see just how bad it can possibly get. And I think this is rock bottom. (head in hands) Just… what the hell?

Hilda: (face down on the floor) Maybe we should, like, restart or something. Maybe a different character is less… (limply gestures with her hand) 

Claude: Honestly… can we bring our baes back for some real talk? 

Hilda: (thumbs up) Sure. Cyril, cut please. 

(Jumpcut to)

Dimitri: Um, we’ve been summoned under the pretext that there’s going to be a serious discussion taking place?

Hilda: There is. (clasps her hands together) Let’s start with why you never guilt someone into sex. _Ever_. 

Dimitri: ...You- You’re kidding, right?

Marianne: Wait, that’s in the game?

Claude: Unfortunately. 

Hilda: Like, I’d just like to say, as a person who is very hypersexual and often wants sex multiple times a day, that there is literally no excuse. I would never make my partner feel bad for not being up for it when I am. That is irredeemably fucked. Period. 

Dimitri: Ah, yeah, I would say so. Why the hell is it happening in this game?

Claude: Because (rubs his temples) and I quote, “you can’t flirt with your boyfriend and _not_ want it”. 

Marianne: Beg pardon?! 

Claude: (points) Look at the screen. 

Marianne: That is appalling! Who in their right mind would allow this in a finished product?! 

Hilda: The same people who made the rest of this garbage. Mari… there’s a lesbian who is literally just there to flash her rack at guys. 

Marianne: (incomprehensible frustrated noises)

Claude: And that, among many other fucked up things, is why (turns the game off, removes the cartridge and chucks it into the trash can), I think we’re gonna stop here and… I don’t know, watch paint dry instead. 

Dimitri: (half-jokingly pulls Claude into his lap) There are a _few_ better things we could be doing.

Hilda: Tmi. 

Dimitri: (rolls eyes) It’s a joke.

Claude: (pouts at him) My maiden heart can’t handle your (running a hand along his chest) brashness, Mr. Blaiddyd. 

Dimitri: (actually looks intrigued) What would you prefer then, Miss Riegan?

Hilda: By all means, let’s turn this into a sex tape (pulls Marianne closer). 

Cyril: (text that covers everything) HOW ABOUT NO.

___


End file.
